Prologue: Intertwined Destinies
by CorinnetheAnime
Summary: As the age draws to a close, spirits are left in a terrible war. A king, left in desperation and hopelessness, calls for help. A god, trapped in a prison, speaks of a hopeful prophecy. A seraph, unsure of his destiny, starts his journey. And a boy, with gold eyes as bright as the sun, draws his first breath. Three-Part Prologue to When Darkness Falls.


**Heyo! So this is hopefully the more official prologue. I really wanted to revise and add some more to this, so it is a small couple chapters of a few things that I wish to establish:  
**

**-The setting and timeline of the story **

**-The past and current state of affairs/circumstances for a few key characters **

**-Foreshadowing for the main story and events**

**As well as a few other things like history, but for the most part, those are the three main themes I really wish to establish. The chapters may not be directly linked to each other except in minor details, so don't expect a direct chronological timeline of events.  
For this beginning, I am going to start things off with something different from the last prologue. There WILL be allusions and whatnot to the history I have planned out, but for the most part, I felt like too much was revealed in the last one and not as personable or relational.**

**Special thanks goes to Ghostkid33, Donjusticia, Hitotsuki, Epsilon, and Ulrich362 for helping!**

**So yeah. Here is the official start. Enjoy!**

* * *

"_Otōsama,_ I don't feel tired for bed yet. Can I please stay up a little longer and be with Michael-san?"

"Not tonight, my son." The winged king sighed while tucking in his energetic son, an elder prince to their kingdom, to bed. He was not in the mood for any sort of nonsense, and the boy was already showing symptoms of sleepiness despite his wishes. "The sun has already set over the horizon. It is nighttime, and you have a big day tomorrow."

"Aw, man, not even a bedtime story?" the young child inquired, his purple eyes pleading for one.

"No." His father's tongue was firm and final, his stern gaze cast down at the boy. "No stories tonight."

"Just one? It doesn't have to be long!"

"I said _no,_ son." His solemn tone ended (what he hoped) any further discussion on the topic, not noticing the slight wince from the boy or the sadness in his eyes. "You're twelve-years-old, soon to be thirteen and beyond, so you're getting too old for stories anyway. Now please get a good rest."

It was the same routine almost every night for years. He would ask for a story, but his request would always be denied. What should've been a tender, vulnerable time for bonding between father and son was instead a mindless ritual, sharing no love or care save for the task at hand. Even the king's voice, who the boy remembered in days long forgotten sounded tranquil and comforting, was now nothing short of coarse, stern.

_Authoritative._

He couldn't exactly blame him for it. His father was the king after all. _It just never left him._

The prince wished for any sign of love or comfort, even something small such as a hug. A tender kiss on the forehead. A smile or even a happy gleam in his eyes. But his father was switching the lamp light off instead, and had plans to retire to his office, never to return for the rest of the night. Not even if he had a nightmare.

Mother used to comfort them on those restless nights years ago, back when he still had his down feathers and a more timid heart, a stronger fear of the darkness, and a desire for comfort. Michael would come into his room too when he had a nasty dream instead—although since he was a few years behind, his brother's nightmares were more simplistic and were easier for Mother to console.

But not anymore. A single nightmare became an inescapable reality before he could even blink. Michael took it harder than him that day.

The prince couldn't understand. Did his father not want to spend time with him or _otouto_ anymore? Ever since Mother died, all he did was work, work and work. He never had time for them during the day or night (unless they did something wrong), but always had time for something else related to work, drowning himself into his studies.

Such kingly activities consisted of reading boring reports. Or going out in the Great Spirit War, leading their armies against the enemy. Or even just sitting all day on his throne and ruling their subjects. On some nights, he had court records and accomplishments of the day to be read to him. Although on the more extravagant nights when he had guests and hosted lavish banquets, the boy alongside his brother was careful not to interfere lest they risk hearing one of his long speeches of their various "mistakes."

The kingdom still loved him, though. The citizens sung of his good deeds from dawn to dusk, leaving a small sense of pride in the boy's heart that he was the son of such a magnificent spirit, destined to follow in his footsteps one day. But to be as great of a leader like him? He had his doubts.

_He is great as a king, so why can't he be just as great as my dad?_ The boy just couldn't figure out why. He loved his father, but did his _otōsama _love him in return? Could he at least try to bond with his sons?

"Why?" Lost in his own thoughts, he didn't realize that his voice betrayed his mind. "...Why, _otōsama?_ Why can't we tell stories or kiss each other good night anymore?"

Immediately, he clapped his hands over his mouth in shock, eyes wide with fear over what he just said. His voice reflected his meek nature, but the aged spirit's hearing was sharp.

There was a pregnant pause, his father's eyes widened at the boy. He instantly regretted saying anything at all. _Why did I say that? Father doesn't need to be burdened with any more of my troubles, he has plenty of his own. He's right, I'm such a selfish idiot._

The father resigned with a sigh. "As you age, you must put away such childish matters. It was appropriate when you were five, but since you're approaching your thirteenth year tomorrow, you must take on a sober mind and look toward the future of our people. You are no longer a foolish _child."_

He hoped that the explanation appeased his questions, but the boy was not happy with it. If anything, the words burned against what he knew was true in his heart. "Is that why you don't say 'I love you' to me or _nii-san_ anymore? Is love nothing but a childish matter too?"

That stung. Really stung.

His stern gaze softened slightly, turning to his son fully while his hand left the lamplight switch. "Young one, it's...more complicated than that. Mindless words express little from the heart, especially those of love. It is a dangerous emotion that leads to suffering."

"Oh..." The boy pondered on his words. "So it's childish to love someone else? Even Mother?"

"What your mother and I had was different, and now she is _dead,"_ the father nearly snapped. But seeing his son recoil slightly from the intense bout of agitation, a sharp exhale from his nose eased some pent-up tension. "Love leaves behind heartache and sorrow...but you are still here, my son. Your life is a gift from the gods themselves. And I am proud as a father to have you as my own, a faithful successor once I pass on."

"But what if I don't want to be a successor?" The boy looked up at him, a few tears in his eyes. "If it means I can't be close to you or _nii-san_ anymore?!"

"Don't raise your voice at me!"

He couldn't look at his father in the eye whenever he was angry, instead choosing to speak quietly, "I don't want to be a king, _otōsama."_

The spirit was displeased. "But you must. It is your destiny." His voice was grave again, absolute in its words and leaving no room for argument.

"No. Screw that destiny."

"Excuse me?" He was incredulous. The boy's heart suddenly opened up with a fury after years of pent-up frustration, expressing all his thoughts, the turmoil swirling in his mind, before he realized what he was saying. And it wasn't pleasant.

"I don't want to be sitting on a throne all day listening to stupid peasants or get drunk with strangers at night!" His head was urgently telling him to shut up and be quiet, since his father would get_ very angry_ with him. Yet the bitter truth left his mouth before he could stop himself. "If that is what my future is, then _screw destiny!_ Why did the gods pick_ me_ anyway? Why am_ I_ so special? All these rules and expectations that I have to uphold every single day every since Mother died...I can't play with Michael anymore or meet new friends! And _you_ can't even look at me and say 'I love you, son' anymore!"

Tears brimmed his eyes. "Why can't my life be _normal?"_

A part of the king was appalled by his son's heart-wrenching declaration: did he forget his place in all of this? His probing questions were becoming bothersome, and speaking out of turn is disrespectful, manners that his son needed improvement on, but_ this?_

"You are in no place to speak such blasphemy, child." It was way past his bedtime; he should've been sleeping instead of arguing with his father. "You know nothing of what it means to be a true king with that attitude."

"And you don't listen!"

"I'm preparing you for the future! But if this is how you repay me and your mother, perhaps I will have to increase my discipline!" This immediately shut the boy up.

There was no escaping one's fate, a lesson that his son had yet to learn.

"But I—!"

"You shall accept your destiny, learn some proper respect, and become a king, or, if you continue having no desire to become one, will instead be treated as a castle servant for the rest of your days. End of discussion. Do I make myself clear?"

The boy shut his mouth quickly, nearly biting his tongue in the process, and nodded.

"Good." His temper dissipated once he figured that his son understood the gravity of the matter. But the fear and shame in the boy's eyes still struck a chord in his heart. "You still have a lot to learn: being king comes with many responsibilities"—he sat down on the edge of the boy's bed, ruffling his hair gently, which made him flinch at first—"and little time for moments such as this."

The head rub felt nice, affectionate. He wished his father did it more, although Mother's hands were much more gentle.

"...Do you still miss Mom?"

"...No." The boy winced as his father's hand immediately pulled back, nearly grabbing his hair while doing so. His tone also grew harsher and louder. "She is dead, and grieving would do nothing to bring her back. A true king moves on from the past and looks to the future no matter what."

The boy held back a depressed sigh upon hearing the same words._ I don't want to be a king._ But he didn't voice his desires again as his father had already lectured him an earful tonight.

Still, something in his father's words left him thinking: why was he chosen by the gods to take up the mantle? Why was he cursed into this lifestyle with no love, or joy, or happiness? Everyone else treated him as someone special, but his father? He could never make him smile, no matter how hard he tried. Everything he did was always work, expectations, deadlines, goals, matters that were stressful and, most of all, _boring._

"Forgive my curiosity, but why am I destined to be king?" It was the one question on his heart that hopefully wouldn't offend his father. "Why was I born into this world,_ touchan?"_

"Please don't use that word."

The boy blinked before realizing he slipped a more affectionate term. His father disliked being treated informally. "Why was I born into this, _otōsama?"_

"That is a story your mother had no desire to tell, but it does cover recent history."

"Can you tell me?"

"It will be different from the others you heard."

"Tell me anyway." His eyes were a bit hopeful, pleading to learn the truth. "Please?"

The tale was not one for the faint of heart, and the aged spirit knew he wasn't the best at telling stories; that was a role he left to his wife. Furthermore, the horrors of war in the past, how it left his heart scarred and hardened, those memories he did not want to relive through again for the sake of a story.

But then again...if the boy went through his life without knowing the truth behind his existence, he may slip away from his true calling in the near future. The king didn't want to think of the horrible disasters their god would inflict upon him if he let _that_ happen.

His son looked up at him eagerly, fearfully, and was rewarded with a defeated sigh. "Alright. Settle down in your bed. Now...let's see…

"Our kind has been cursed for generations. A spirit's life is usually cruel and unfair, but whether this was the will of the gods or not, nobody knew for sure. For us heavenly spirits living in the sky, it was no different. I, as their king, witnessed firsthand just how unyielding, harsh, and torturous the heat of both the sun and strife was on my subjects. Endless war ravaged the homeland, and burnt crops left many on the verge of starving to death, leaving only chaff drifting aimlessly on the four winds.

"But the worst torture came from the cries of the angered enemy that filled our ears. It hurt our hearts the most, more than the physical, burning pain of the fires..."

* * *

_The Great Spirit War, still continuing onward after decades of conflict and politics, left only destruction in its wake. And the last thing the king wanted was to see his own people suffer the brunt of it._

_"Sky demons! You will pay for this!"_

_"You think you're all safe up there, don't you? Staying up all nice and cozy in that heavenly sanctuary of yours, out of reach from the earth..."_

_"We won't stop until every feather on your horrid wings crumbles to ash!"_

_"Burn in hell!"_

_The screams of his brethren, followed by the rage of their enemy, did not go unheard by the king's ears. His heart quenched as he saw their beautiful lands now left in ruin, a mighty kingdom in utter shambles..._

_Then they came, dark as a cloud of locusts in the distance. Their rage shook the proud heavens themselves, and the once proud bright sky turned dark with smoke from the embers. The cries of death, of war and terror, was a never-ending nightmare._

_The king was determined to end it all before it drove him mad._

* * *

"Did we deserve this? No, it was an _injustice."_

His anger did not go unnoticed at that moment. Nobody knew why Fate was cruel to them. They were the chosen Sky People, a noble, honorable race who had the god of Light and can fly anywhere with their shining wings.

They were the Children of the Sky. The gods chose them originally to be the messengers, destined rulers of the entire spiritual world. In return, they stayed loyal to the gods, more so than any other spirit.

That was their true destiny. The war opposed everything he and his people stood for.

"We are the greatest nation among all the spiritual kingdoms and realms." There was a sense of pride in his words. "Our economy and military power is unmatched, and our ancestry, the monarchy, has kept the kingdom united and strong for hundreds of generations."

The heavens were their domain, clouds all covered with golden cities. Surely, glory and honor was their true destiny, for who could look upon their realm without awe or wonder in their hearts of its miraculous splendor?

But it wasn't the case. Instead of glory, the enemy cried out for blood. So many of his men and women had died defending their homes, and just when they managed to get a foothold on maintaining the walls of the major cities...that was when disaster struck.

"Why must our people suffer and beg for mercy from the other kingdoms? Why must we suffer from hellish creatures? Did they forget their destiny to kneel before the sky? To serve it?"

_To beg for their lives?_

"Is that why we have slaves?" his son asked quizzically, interrupting the story (and his thoughts) for a brief moment. They had many servants in the castle, and it was not an unusual sight during one of their past trips outside the city to find different spirits on the fields, working in labor under their masters. "To remind them of their destiny?"

"The outside world is cruel, son," he concluded simply to let the boy understand. "If they were left on their own, those spirits are just mindless animals preying upon the weak, lost to their own primitive instincts. Their positions as servants not only reminds them, and us, of their place, but also help channel their minds and bodies into providing more glory and honor to our kingdom."

"So they naturally deserve to be slaves..."

"Yes. That is right."

"But how exactly are we superior to them? Aren't we spirits just like them?"

"Please understand this, my son." His voice was calmer, more controlled, as he explained, "The sky itself watches and rules over all living things with its gentle eyes. We are its firstborn children, the sons and daughters of the glorious heavens. Because of our heritage, our history as messengers of even the gods themselves, our innate nobility gives us the right to rule their kingdoms and to control lesser spirits. We are, by nature, their gods."

It was the same response his father had told him when he asked the same questions as a child. They were deities in spirit form. _"Never_ forget that truth."

The boy wrapped his mind around his father's speech, slowly understanding what he meant. He had questions about why they had so many servants in their castle beforehand, but accepted it as commonplace. But to think they actually had a nobler status...

"As the Children of the Sky, it is our duty to destroy any who pose an evil threat to the sky's sovereignty," his father continued, interrupting his thoughts. "There wasn't even supposed to be a war in the first place, but the other kingdoms, especially the dark one, just had the _gall_ to be extremely arrogant...arrogant enough to call upon the terrors of all living creatures and then unleash them upon our people."

His heart hung heavy against his chest, remembering the heartbreaking reports day after day of his soldiers' defeat against the horrible creatures that ravaged their lands. "Natural means wouldn't force those beasts' wings to fold. Nothing on earth can stop a dragon."

The boy's eyes widened. "Dragons?! They actually existed?"

"Yes...and demons too."

A cold shiver went down the younger spirit's spine, making even his wings quiver. He had heard many bedtime tales about those monsters from his mother, how they would burn their people, skin their flesh, pluck their feathers, and eat them raw. The imagery never left his head and was the source of multiple past nightmares.

However, dragons were merely creatures of legend. They died off long ago according to the stories he read or heard from... "How did they still manage to exist?"

"I still don't know...but they were every bit as monstrous and wicked as the legends described them to be."

"With scaly wings?"

"Yes."

"And razor-sharp fangs and claws?"

"Indeed, sharper than any sword."

"And they can actually breathe fire that can melt iron and scorch your feathers off?!"

"Some did...but their powers expanded beyond that." He paused for a moment to see the poor boy on the verge of hyperventilation, even gripping his head with sweaty fingers. His late wife was a good storyteller, perhaps too good for the boy's psyche. "A true king should face his own fears, little one. Now calm down."

"O-Okay..."

"Look at my eyes." When his son returned to his senses, he was met with a sharp click. A tut from his father's tongue. "You are too afraid and hesitant to even listen, and allow your mind to wander freely. Is this how you are going to treat your future subjects as well? With ignorance? Fear? Disappointment?"

"I-I'm sorry, _touchan._ I really am."

_"Lucifer."_ Saying his name meant he did something really wrong, and the boy felt a soft blow on the top of his head. "Don't call me that again. _Ever._ It's incredibly disrespectful."

"I'm very sorry, _otōsama!"_ He meekly lowered his wings. "I beg your forgiveness."

"You can say sorry all you want, but you must work at respecting me if the people are to respect you. And not letting your mind run wild as it just did."

"I understand and will do better next time to use my manners and control my imagination." His voice was strained as he forced himself to stay calm and collected. His father was a hard spirit to please. "So...what happened next?"

A clear of his throat answered his question. "I knew only one means to resolve this," he continued. "The gods were not beings that intervened in our lives on a rare notice, despite what the legends said. Their holy and evil presences alike were felt every day throughout this world. The presence of a deity was a comfort...but the lack of one, an omen."

"An omen?"

"Stop asking questions and please listen." Another pause as the boy closed his mouth, eyes looking down in shame. "I feared the Sky People, our great and blessed nation, was slowly losing favor with the gods and that this war was a possible result of it. We were losing swiftly and surely, and I was on my last legs. But little did I know what the gods really had in plan for me that day when I entered the temple of the Society of Light..."

* * *

_It was nerve-wracking to face a god, or rather remnants of it. The shining entity before him was enchanting and surrounded itself with an aura of beauty and wonder, its radiance almost blinding his eyes. But the spirit was also left with the constant reminder of its prison, as the swirling distortion of space-time loomed before him as if wanting to swallow up his soul too._

_A black hole. An abomination created by the pure essence of darkness. A force of pure destruction, bound by magic, and a terrible fate to any god left trapped inside._

_Even one as powerful as the Bringer of Light._

_That was the predicament of their god. Yet the others were left to roam free to do as they pleased, meddling with man and spirit alike unrestrained. So why would the Destroyer imprison only the Bringer of Light? It just wasn't right._

_The king shook the thoughts from his head. The Bringer of Light is weakened. He has been for many years._

_But he didn't come to revolt. The Bringer of Light had been good to him and his family. He had done wonders for their people in the days of old. The blessings He bestowed upon them were the glory of the skies, which made their kingdom stronger than the rest of the world, a lasting beacon of power and grace to all spirits for many millennia._

_Yes, the Bringer of Light is good, the spirit is sure of it. That is why the Society advised him to seek His counsel in this time of great loss and tragedy._

_"Spirit, why do you stand in the presence of the high god?" Its presence demanded respect, and a strong, primal fear overcame the king against his will. He was reminded of his position, as a small, almost insignificant spirit, that the god could immediately and easily reject if He didn't believe his intentions were good. The Bringer of Light was not soft._

_The reality left his knees shaking, almost knocking together. The king almost second-guessed himself in asking the powerful god about his dilemma._

_But he bowed, both to save himself from falling and to honor the deity. "Wise one, I am merely a humble servant of your allegiance. I only ask for your guidance with troubles circulating through your people."_

_"A trouble?" the god's voice reverberated through the space. "I know the troubles of all. The beasts in the field, the slaves of the land, the mighty in battle and low in spirit. They all cry out in times of trouble to a liberator to change their outcome, but they do not come to me. They fall and suffer in darkness. But you...you are right to seek after me."_

_"Then please help us, Bringer of Light," the king pleaded in a soft tone, both out of fear and desperation. "It concerns the Great Spirit War. The Destroyer's power grows every day, and our people suffer for it. Lend us your power so that we may fight against the enemy's forces."_

_"As long as I remain trapped here, I cannot help you in the way you desire." The god seemed slightly agitated, more so from how He ended up in this current predicament in the first place. "Most of my essence cannot escape the magic barrier, as you can see."_

_The king was distraught from this. "Then that means...the war...are we destined to lose in it? Have we lost favor?'_

_"There is conflict within the hour. A war today can be a truce tomorrow. But it is an endless cycle: destruction and creation, and it makes the heavens turn in their courses above. Do you forget the power of rebirth from destruction?"_

_"I-I have not forgotten. But what is the purpose of destruction in the war?"_

_"The ashes of those who fall into hatred breeds this power. Understand that it is the nature of the lowly and weak to succumb to their fears, and they will end themselves as a result. Rebirth comes in the next generation who choose a different path. For you and your kin, fortune blesses you."_

_"Fortune blesses us..." The last few words relieved the king's soul, but he was aware of a subtle message in His cryptic speech. But what exactly was the Bringer of Light implying? "What do you mean? What is foreseen in our future?"_

_"My news will be tidings of comfort and joy for your nation. Within the moonlit year, on the summer solstice this coming season, you will have a firstborn son. He will be a seraph like the angels of old, brighter and more powerful than even your strongest men."_

_The king was absolutely stunned at this. The stories of the seraphim in ages past originated from their kingdom's golden period. Such spirits were supposedly the original ancestors of the Children of the Sky, and their power was so great, their wings alone burned with a fire that scorched everything, even water. This earned them the name "the burning ones" and were feared by all who gazed upon their glory. Many dismissed their existence as mere myth..._

_So to think his future child would be a creature of such glory..._

_"He shall become my vessel, the har-bringer of my glory, a spirit greater than any other in power, strength, intelligence, and cunning. I will flow through his veins and will teach them to strike the heart of the enemy. He will be the one to destroy this prison and set my powers free."_

_The words of the god rang true in the king's soul; he could scarcely believe the good news of what he was hearing. He would have a son, a legendary seraphim, that will win the war for them? "I-Is this true?"_

_"Do you doubt me?" The deity's tone was sharp, almost threatening. "Do you test my knowledge, lowly spirit?"_

_"No, of course not!"_

_"If you believe my words, then you must raise him in his youth the ways of the gods, and teach him my truths. He will grow strong under my power, but his heart will be in service to me alone, not to anyone else. Be aware of this, lest you make an enemy even to him, and his wings will burn you."_

_The king understood the threat loud and clear, and it sent shivers down his spine. Nevertheless, he had a desire to raise the boy, from the moment of his birth, to be a glorious servant of the god._

_But his curiosity on another matter got the better of him. "Why would my son be the one to free you, Bringer of Light?"_

_"Do you not watch the seasons, the rise and fall of the sun, the cycles of the moon and stars?" The Bringer of Light did not angrily condemn the spirit for his ignorance, but his kind should've been well-informed in the history between the light and the dark. "They tell the approaching day of worlds colliding, of an apocalypse between all creatures. This age of darkness is drawing to a close in less than a century's time, and my time in this prison will too come to an end. Your son will be born solely to bring forth a new age of light and fire."_

_"Then how will my son free you? Even here, in a vision, the Destroyer's power is too strong for any direct contact with you."_

_"Only through the heart of a spirit, the hand of man, and the power of a god will I be released," was the deity's cryptic response. "Only when all three parts of the key come together will I be free. And your child will make it so."_

_This prophecy lingered in the spirit's heart. A son...that will free the Light._

_"And if I free you...you will strengthen our kingdom?"_

_"My hand will stretch out over all that the sky touches," the god replied. "Your enemies will be crushed, their soldiers left shaking in my presence. I will burn their crops and kill their livestock. I will wipe their presence off the face of the world. Your son will carry a new age of power and superiority as its greatest ruler, and all who oppose him will be engulfed in his wings' holy fires." A guttural purr laced His tone, the king left in a sense of security and desire for His promise to be fulfilled. "Once he releases me, I will make it so."_

_"Very well. I swear on my life to raise my future son in your allegiance."_

* * *

_"Hail the birth of the future king of the Sky People!"_

_"May the divine Bringer of Light bless his wisdom and give him grace!"_

_"Praise the Bringer of Light for the new king, the holy seraph prince!"_

"The cries of our people were full of hope, an emotion that has been missing for many years. A hope for their future. A hope for their lives. A hope for the new firstborn child that will lead them to win the war once and for all. Those cries were for you...my son."

The boy was left surprised at the weight and meaning behind his birth. He knew that he was different for more than just having six wings...but the fact that he was a legendary spirit just like the ones in their past history was...astounding. And neither his father or mother told him anything about his destiny up till now.

"So...the god of light itself made me a seraph so that I can free it?" He tried to piece his father's words together. "That's why I was born?"

"You are a blessing from him." The briefest of moments revealed a smile on his features, which was a rare sight to his son. "And when you become king, you will free our god from his prison forever. That is your true destiny."

He soaked up his words like a sponge. Living out the will of the Light, becoming a king and winning a war...that's how he could please his father.

"You will be the savior of our people and, eventually, the entire world. That is why I am hard on you in the first place, and starting tomorrow, everything you know will change forever. I will teach you the tools you will need to be a king of our lands and a true leader over a true age, and on that day, all spirits will bow to _your_ might."

Those fateful words never left his heart that night. The boy understood it clearly, everything about his childhood, his life, his destiny. Even when his father ushered him a good night and left. Even after his thirteenth birthday the following day. Even after he grew strong and faithful in the teachings of the gods.

Even years later, when he was no longer a boy, but a man ready to face the world.

Piercing purple eyes set their gaze over the horizon, his six white wings now fluttering beautifully in the sunlight, bright flames licking off the end feathers. Tomorrow would be the historical day of his coronation. And tomorrow, he vowed to himself, would be the day where he would fulfill that prophecy once and for all.

"I will make you proud of me, otōsan. I will bring glory to our people once more."

* * *

A sharp cry of pain echoed in the room of the hospital. It was the screams of a female in labor, her exhaustion present after hours of enduring multiple contractions and achieving little progress. Her husband never left her side the moment he received her call at work and took her to the hospital, understandably nervous for her safety.

It was a blessing and a problem for the birth to happen today. Since their loving marriage, Koki and her husband, Ryuu Nakamura, wanted children, little feet to run around in their home. So they tried and failed a few times for a child, partially due to genetic infertility complications on her part. They kept trying despite having failed conceptions along the way, which hit them hard.

But with enough courage and a little outside help, they eventually succeeded. She never forgot Ryuu's broad, joyful smile or loving kiss that day when he learned he was going to be a father.

Despite the good news and all the preparation they did for their first child, reality hit them even harder than before. Koki was only thirty-one weeks when she suddenly started developing nausea, heavy breathing, and problems going to the bathroom. The abdominal pain and change in vision were not from the pregnancy either. Calling her husband of a possible emergency, he rushed her to the hospital ER for a diagnosis and praying that his wife didn't suffer from any complications.

The results weren't good. Koki was suffering from a severe case of preeclampsia, a full six weeks before the due date. Her placenta was struggling to support the baby and was taking a toll on her body as a result, meaning she had to give birth now or risk death.

It was a scare for her. They both knew the risks of preterm labor, but were willing to take those risks to save her life and the baby's.

Now in the hospital, her induced labor, started by her provider breaking the water sac, had been nothing short of painful and tiring. They had high hopes for a speedier delivery since a premature birth was often quick. But it had been a few hours since the injection, and some of the doctors were growing concerned of both her health and the baby's.

They offered an epidural to ease the pain, but Koki decided to not risk it since there could be more complications surrounding it on top of her condition. Needless to say, the agony that came with the contractions were excruciating.

"It hurts! IT HURTS!" she cried from her bed in the maternity ward while nurses and doctors surrounded her.

"It's okay, my dear." Ryuu held her hand, letting them do their work to help his wife. He couldn't begin to imagine her pain and fatigue, but she needed him to be there for her, supporting her. "Just imagine the joy that comes after all this. We will have our little baby today, and things will get better from here on out."

She tried to focus on his voice while taking deep, shaky breaths. Her hair was matted with sweat and her cheeks were flushed from the exertion of birth. "Right now, I just...want the baby out. I want this pain to end."

He rubbed her palm with a gentle thumb, his gaze sympathetic. "It won't be much longer now. Just be brave, dear."

At the foot of the bed, the head obstetrician kept her legs apart while the nurses monitored her vitals. Her blood pressure was high, so they had to act fast. "Your cervix is ten inches at dilation. On my cue, push."

At the command, she obeyed, her features strained while the doctor counted to ten. They did this for several minutes. Then, good news came.

"The baby is crowning!" the obstetrician announced. "This is it! One more push should do it!"

This relieved the pair, the mother especially. She was utterly exhausted, and her heart beat hard against her chest, both from strain and excitement. "That means...that means the baby is coming, right?"

The woman couldn't wait to see their child, and this made her smile through all of the pain. And boy, was she in a world of agony in childbirth. Without the epidural to block out the pressure of the contractions, Koki bit her tongue so many times to keep from screaming. The appendage bled as a consequence, but she didn't care.

Nobody said it was easy, giving birth to a baby.

Sometimes, her endurance left her husband in awe. _Poor Koki. I know you can pull through this. Just practice your breathing and listen to the doctors._

After so much time of waiting, the next few minutes seemed to pass by quickly. The mother-to-be pushed at the obstetrician's command until a soft cry filled the air, followed by many adorations from the doctors.

. A wave of relief and joy washed over her and her husband. Their baby had finally been born after so much pain.

The obstetrician checked the infant over after letting the father cut the cord. "Congratulations! It's a boy!"

"He is a preemie."

The piercing, gurgling whimpers of a tiny infant expressed his discomfort from the new cold. He was covered in blood and his face was red from exertion, but was still alive and struggling to breathe. His little fists were balled and he shivered, wanting warmth but unable to attain it.

Everything felt so cold. It was clear he was struggling just to stay alive.

The doctor immediately went to clean him of remaining fluids and blood. Once washing him off with a mild body wash and warm water, he dried him off and swaddled him in a warm white blanket. The tuft of hair on his head was a shiny silver with a wisp of emerald green on the tiny bangs. His eyes were still scrunched closed as his little fists waved around weakly in the air.

"There, there, little guy," one of the nurses cooed as she put the baby down on a weighing station. He wriggled his limbs, but it didn't affect the results as she looked over all of his vitals.

"Four pounds and seven ounces. Lungs and heart functions are irregular and underdeveloped, and his body temperature cannot be internally maintained. He will need to spend some time in the NICU until those systems get stronger." He was measured before placed in a neonatal resuscitation bed, which kept him warm and safe along with the blanket.

Koki looked over from her bed, seeing her child for the first time. Even from her far-away perspective, she could tell he was tiny. How she wished he was in her arms instead of that machine, his hope for any chance of survival.

She didn't care about her own pain anymore. "How long will he need help?"

"Judging from his undeveloped organs and premature status, it might be a few weeks in the NICU," the nurse replied, making sure their son was all comfortable in his bed. "We will be keeping an eye on his health until his recovery is complete and safe for him and you to return home."

It was disheartening to say the least. Ryuu brushed a sweaty lock of hair off of Koki's forehead and tenderly kissed her temple to relax her. "Everything will work out, my dear. We finally have a baby, a beautiful little boy of our own. And I know that even though this will be a struggle for his life, our family will pull through and be together soon enough."

His attempts to comfort her did help. She was grateful, having hope for their future while longing to be with her son. "I wish I could hold him...our poor boy must be so scared."

"You can soon. After he's slept a little and warmed up some we can see if he's able to feed from either breast or bottle. If he can, then that's going to lessen what we need to do for him," the nurse told her once she has attached a few sensors to the baby's chest to monitor his heart and lungs.

They knew this situation was difficult for the mother and the child, since maternal instincts incline her to bond with her son after his birth. Even though Koki couldn't be with her child for a short while, the doctors' reassurance for his health in the future, coupled with the procedures designed to help the premature boy get stronger, planted a small hope in her heart.

"Alright…" She laid back in her bed, feeling the exhaustion creep up on her body. The worst of the pain was over, but the birth left her muscles, both inside and out, completely sore. Ryuu helped with bringing water to her for the past few hours, so at least she wasn't that dehydrated.

But before she could go to sleep, a sudden thought struck her. The baby had no identity, and it almost slipped her mind.

"What shall his name be?" Koki asked. This was a subject they didn't focus on much with all of the preparation they went through to welcome the child into the world, but now that he was here, choosing a name was suddenly difficult. She didn't know where to start, partially trusting her instincts on waiting till after the birth and just "knowing" the right name would come to her.

But not being able to see her child made things difficult.

Ryuu had a couple names for a boy, but was unsure if they would fit for the child. The doctors did give permission to see him in the little bed.

His son was now calm, being swaddled all cozy in a blanket, eyes still closed. The sensors on his body were hooked to a small screen on the side of the bed that evaluated his systems. He was surprised to see just how _tiny_ the baby was, enough to fit in the palm of his hand.

The man was not a doctor, but he was worried about the irregular patterns shown on the screen; he guessed it was his son's heart rate. _Will he suffer from this throughout his life?_

The doctor seemed to have read his thoughts, since her gaze was sympathetic. "Generally, it depends...some preemies will go through development or organ troubles or even both. But it's not the case with every child."

"Disabilities or not, I will love him regardless. He is my son either way."

With his father's shadow over his face, the baby whimpered again before his scrunched eyes slowly opened. Ryuu looked over his child in the bed, eyes wide and marveling at the boy's own golden irises. They shone phenomenally in the lit room, their gaze as beautiful and bright as the sun itself. A soft voice, not originating from his mind, whispered in Ryuu's ear while he watched his son slowly relax and take a small nap, mesmerized by those gold eyes.

"Zarc. His name shall be Zarc Ryūki Nakamura."

The faintest of smiles ghosted the baby's chubby face before he succumbed to sleep in the little incubator. Seeing the new world was too much for his weary eyes to handle.

Now sitting up in her bed, Koki heard the name and smiled in approval at the sound of it. She tested the syllables and carefully spelled out each letter on her tongue. "Zarc Ryūki...what a unique name. It's simple, yet beautiful." She glanced at her husband. "What made you come up with it?"

"Zarc...I'm not sure. It just came to me out of nowhere." He turned to his wife and shrugged, eyebrows furrowing as he pondered it. "It was like...a little voice told me."

He truly didn't have a clue on where the name came from, but it didn't matter now. Koki hummed in thought, struggling not to yawn. "And what of his middle name?"

"Ryūki, from our names," he replied.

"Should've seen that one coming." That time Koki yawned, no longer having strength to hold herself up on the bed. The doctors checked on all of her vitals one last time and treated her body with an anticonvulsive medication so that she wouldn't suffer from a possible case of postpartum preeclampsia. She still needed time and medicine for a good recovery.

Both mother and son had a long day, that much was certain. Ryuu was happy for them both, and decided he would call Leo later about the good news. His friend did ask for all of the latest updates on Koki's delivery.

The doctors again congratulated him on the good news, wishing them good fortune before taking Zarc's report and bed to the NICU. Koki went to a peaceful sleep, a warm smile on her cherubic face. Ryuu leaned down and kissed her forehead. She was practically glowing with the sun now shining on her features, and he admired her heavenly beauty despite the blood, sweat, and tears on her skin.

"Sleep well, my love. May you have pleasant dreams…"

* * *

**So what do ya think? I'm definitely going a different approach to this prologue, hoping to get more background on characters and events that will explain certain plots of the main story.**

**Some major foreshadowing here and there. I don't want to give too much away for the sake of...well, keeping the plot secret. But I like this direction much more than the older prologue. **

**Now, the prologue as a whole is, as stated above, NOT chronological. Even in this chapter here, I specifically kept out any specific dates or timeline since I felt it would break up the story to just put in a timestamp, and two, to let the story itself unfold the timeline. But what I will say is that the earliest events of my Arc-V story did happen in this chapter.**

**Anyway, this prologue might be divided into three chapters and will be posted separately to establish itself from the main Arcs of the story. Hoping you guys enjoyed it so far! Lemme know your theories!**


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